How is it possible to have this overpowering sensation of nostalgia for a place that, realistically, I’ve spent so little time in?
I’m of course speaking of my desire to travel to England. All morning I’ve been drinking tea and listening to the Beatles and Oasis and in general acting very wistful. I don’t know why I think that going back there will make me happy–I thought the same thing about leaving Fallbrook to go to college–but every time I look out the window I just feel utterly sick of Orange County and its rows and rows of houses, all perfectly manicured and shown off for their sameness.
I suppose I just want to be somewhere where the architecture is older than I am, where there is a sense of epic history. It’s stupid things that remind me, too… the other day I got inordinately excited when I had to take a roundabout.
Here are some stupid things I do to tide myself over until I can either visit the UK or move there entirely:
- Have an inclination to only listen to music that originates from the UK (Bloc Party, Oasis, the Beatles, Massive Attack, British Sea Power, etc. There are, of course, exceptions.)
- Go slightly out of my way to use a traffic circle or roundabout, if at all possible, to get to my destination.
- Drive a Mini Cooper.
- Wear a Union Jack on clothing and accessories, though not in an overbearing way. (E.g., wallet, underwear)
- Forego coffee for tea.
- Pronounce words differently, such as advertisement with the emphasis on “vert,” or schedule with a soft “sch.”
I’m sure you can find more if you know me well enough…
